


Euphemism

by altihex



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Holoforms (Transformers), M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altihex/pseuds/altihex
Summary: There is nothing wrong with their dynamic as is. Being the smaller bot in the relationship makes it easy for Tailgate to naturally assume a more submissive role.Cyclonus does not hold this against him. He’s patient, willing, and full of love, too.But sometimes Tailgate wishes he could reciprocate properly.(Tailgate 'upgrades' his holo-avatar and reverses their roles in berth for a change.)
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Euphemism

**Author's Note:**

> I return to AO3 solely to write Transformers porn. I know I had several people subscribed to me as a user and to those people, I am very sorry, it is all about the big robots now. 
> 
> Things to note: there is a POV switch in the beginning. I felt like I needed to point it out as it may not be too obvious, but it switches from Tailgate to Cyclonus' POV and stays with Cyclonus throughout the fic.
> 
> Cyclonus refers to 'organic parts' by Cybertronian names. Whether or not he's just old and unaware or deliberately not using them, is up to your interpretation ;)

There is nothing wrong with their dynamic as is. Being the smaller bot in the relationship makes it easy for Tailgate to naturally assume a more submissive role. He also lacks significant experience compared to Cyclonus. Cyclonus, who has had a fair share of ‘lovers’ back in the day, while Tailgate lay dormant, buried beneath his own rubble.

Cyclonus does not hold this against him. He’s patient and willing, full of love, too. 

But sometimes Tailgate wishes he could reciprocate properly. 

So he hatches a plan. Acquiring the resources necessary is easy- the crew is more than happy to assist, some of them wishing him luck. Telling him how lucky Cyclonus is to have a partner like Tailgate when really it’s _Tailgate_ who counts himself lucky.

Getting Cyclonus to agree is the harder part.

  
  


+

“You want to… _what_?”

“I- er.” Tailgate fidgets. He sought out Cyclonus in private to press his request, pleased to find the jet in their hab suite. He _was_ , until he posed his question and Cyclonus’ optical ridges shot up. Part of him wishes to have another mech at his side if only for moral support. “It’s okay if you don’t want to!”

Cyclonus sucks in a vent. The action is not unlike a sigh. “Tailgate-” 

“It’s fine, really!” The minibot rambles. This isn’t going according to his scenario. He knows he is panicking but is unable to stop his processor from drawing all the wrong conclusions. Primus help him. “I- I- it’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Tailgate.” Cyclonus places a grounding hand on his shoulder. The purple jet bends down considerably to do so and meets Tailgate’s gaze within mere inches of one another. “I didn’t say _that_. I’m only asking why.” 

“Uh, because-” he hesitates. Cyclonus has never reacted especially well to being _given_ rather than to give. Tailgate steels himself. _Now or never_. “I adjusted my holo-avatar to match yours! So we can be, you know, equal!” He beams. 

Cyclonus’ optical ridges crease in a frown. “Tailgate, that- I have no qualms about our… differences. You are fine the way you are.” 

Tailgate giggles at the kiss Cyclonus presses to his head. He’s so _fussy_ . “I know!” He counters. His initial anxieties soothed, he feels more at ease divulging his plans to his lover. “I’d just like to- to reciprocate? Kind of, uh…” _What had Whirl called it again?_ “Role-reversal.”

“I see…” Cyclonus drawls. He touches his chin in thought and Tailgate watches him with equal amounts of trepidation as excitement. 

“Fine,” his lover concedes. “Just this once.” 

Tailgate has to physically restrain himself to prevent ‘whooping’. 

  
  
  
+

Cyclonus doesn’t often wonder whether he’s bitten off more than he can chew. He’s set in his ways, perhaps a little _too_ punctual, but never outside of his own comfort zone. All challenges he takes on are of his own volition.

Tailgate… changed that. Tailgate’s insistence to drag Cyclonus along in new and foreign affairs threw his world for a loop and frightened him. 

Along the line, he realized that what he feared most was the fact that he _liked_ it. This new ‘normal’ pushes him out of his depth but Tailgate never pushes him too fast, too hard. No, if Cyclonus has to visualize, he imagines it more like Tailgate holding his hand and reassuring him throughout that it is _okay, they can slow down or stop if he wants to_.

It does not mean Cyclonus stops doubting these situations altogether. 

And Tailgate is annoyingly perceptive sometimes. 

“Cy?” His new holo-avatar looks up at Cyclonus with bright eyes. His adjustments mean he’s a little taller than Cyclonus now but he’s kept the same look overall. Blue eyes and blonde hair that reaches his shoulders, bangs parted and tucked behind his ears where it’s too long. He’s ditched the glasses that were so reminiscent of his visor and Cyclonus hasn’t yet decided which look he prefers- with or without. 

The smile is something he hasn’t to ponder on. It’s crooked, reflective of his intent and inclination for mischief. His eyes crinkle and sparkle whenever he smiles or laughs and Cyclonus adores it. It prompted him to smile in kind, and Tailgate had gushed over his reaction.

Cyclonus is startled out of his mind when a hand waves in front of his face. He blinks and looks down at Tailgate’s holo-avatar kneeling between his legs, holding his skirts up to his hips. 

_He’d grown frustrated trying to take them off. Cyclonus had offered to do it for him but Tailgate insisted he wanted to do this his way, so they left it like that and compromised by allowing Cyclonus to at least lift them for his lover._

“Earth to Cyclonus!” Tailgate presses again. “Hey, you can hear me, can’t you?” 

“Earth to…?” Cyclonus frowns. That’s a phrase he’s never heard before.

Tailgate giggles. He mushes his cheek against Cyclonus’ upper thigh and kisses just above where the stockings reach. He’s plucking at the elastic straps. “Oh, it’s a human term! Look the part, act the part.” Tailgate then pouts and hollows out his cheeks to up the effect. “Too much? Too... _native_?” 

_He’s teasing you. Asking you to play along_. 

_So play along_.

Cyclonus places his hand on Tailgate’s head and ruffles his hair, causing his bangs to fall over his eyes. Tailgate tries to blow them out of his face, with minimal success. It gives Cyclonus the opportunity to reach over and stroke through the locks himself, pushing them back behind Tailgate’s ears. His touch lingers. 

“I’m alright,” he says, urging himself to smile in a way that can’t be perceived as a sneer. “Proceed.” 

He still doesn’t know exactly what he’s setting himself up for but when Tailgate gives the skin on his thigh a careful lick, his array- _human reproductive organs_ \- tingle with obvious interest. This body, he realizes, only has a _valve_. Cyclonus has only ever bared his valve when Tailgate asked him for it, and due to their differences in size, it didn't see much use at all.

Cyclonus did not– and _doesn't_ blame Tailgate for it. He reassures him time and time again that he prefers using his spike regardless and that Tailgate is more than _enough._

_But he wants to please you like this, too._

_Frag_ . Cyclonus is an _idiot_ for not realizing that sooner. 

His breath catches in his throat. “Tailgate, Tailgate, wait–”

Tailgate does. He withdraws his lips from Cyclonus’ thigh and he urges himself not to whimper at the loss of that wet warmth. “Cy? Everything okay?” Bless the little– _well, not so little anymore_ – mech, he's looking up at Cyclonus with eyes full of concern. 

“I have never…” he frees one side of his skirts and gestures to the cloth covering his array. It's uncouth and soaks far easier than panels. Which he just realized, because he's absolutely mortified at how those simple touches of Tailgate’s lips has his valve lubricated so thoroughly. He draws a breath. “Used this.”

“Yeah.” Tailgate’s casual acknowledgment throws him for a loop. Cyclonus inquisitively arches an eyebrow. Tailgate continues, “I mean– I figured! But I wanna show you that it feels good, too? You always take care of me this way, so, you know…” he trails off.

Nerves, Cyclonus realizes. 

_Just like me_.

So when he realizes, he's smiling down at his lover rather than urging him to stop because _he_ is out of his depth– they _both_ are! 

“If that's alright,” Tailgate asks, quietly. His eyes widen with surprise when Cyclonus’ hand presses his head to lay back against his thigh, gently urging him to continue.

“Yes,” he nods. “More than.”

If he's going to stumble and fall, best they do it together. Communication– especially _verbal_ communication is the key to a healthy relationship and Cyclonus is still working to better himself on that. Tailgate is not like him. Tailgate requires him to be clear, to communicate, rather than Cyclonus’ insistence to just _feel_.

_Look where that got you_.

_No, none of that. Not right now._

Fortunately Tailgate chooses that moment to draw back the string of his pantyhose and releases it to smack against Cyclonus’ thigh again. He jolts out of his thoughts with a gasp. “ _Oh_!”

Tailgate grins wickedly. After some fumbling he manages to unlatch the strings and slowly rolls the clothing down, revealing Cyclonus’ legs. He's admiring them, Cyclonus realizes, when he looks at Tailgate’s eyes and feels the very tips of his fingers ghost over the flesh. It’s electrifying and sets his nerves on end, forcing him to shudder.

_More_.

He meets Tailgate’s gaze. His needs must have translated through the look on his own face because Tailgate winks at him and delves back in. 

Tailgate places his hands on Cyclonus’ knees and gently pries his legs further apart. His lips map out Cyclonus’ inner thighs very thoroughly, testing his responses and leaving no spot untouched. 

Cyclonus finds it increasingly difficult to keep his focus. Tailgate’s lips latch to particularly sensitive spots and he's nipping at them, scraping his teeth over sensitive flesh. Cyclonus’ temperature shoots right up and he's leaning back slightly, thighs trembling in his lover’s hold. His knees are gently massaged, Tailgate’s thumbs pressing circles against the insides. It's sinfully _good_ , being lavished in such thorough and reverent attention. 

Then Tailgate’s lips teasingly kiss the cloth covering his valve, fishing for a response. Cyclonus delivers, parting his lips in a sharp gasp and clutches at his skirts. “ _Tailgate…_ ” 

Then he stops. Cyclonus’ gaze draws back to the fork between his legs, shivering in anticipation. 

“Good?” Tailgate asks with a knowing smile and dares to innocently bat those eyelashes of his. He's pushing against the cloth with a finger now, teasing through Cyclonus’ folds with a torturously slow touch. “Is it good when I do…” he pauses. For dramatic effect no doubt, because then he flicks the nub akin to an anterior node and Cyclonus _moans_. “-This?” 

Tailgate shudders minutely at Cyclonus’ apparent sensitivity. Cyclonus watches him through hooded eyelids and vaguely realizes his holo-avatar's glasses must be askew as one eye has clearer vision than the other. 

Cyclonus watches as Tailgate does it again. Blunt fingernails scrape over the nub through the thin, soaked cloth covering it, again and again. Each time Cyclonus is responsive and his voice only raises to a higher pitch.

It quickly becomes unbearable. He wants, no, needs more, and fast. “T-Tailgate–” he tries to ask for it. His voice isn't cooperative, his tongue heavy and useless in his mouth. He can only hope his lover takes pity on him. “ _Please_.”

“Aw,” Tailgate doesn't giggle then; he chuckles instead. The sound shouldn't turn Cyclonus on as much as it does but he has little time to ponder the effects of his lover's voice when the cloth is dragged away from his valve and replaced by–

_Oh_.

Cyclonus forgets about his skirts and his hands fly instead to grasp Tailgate’s head, fingers entangled with wild locks of hair. The action subsequently causes the fabric to drape over Tailgate’s head and obscure him completely with his face buried in Cyclonus’ valve.

He's about to apologize and lift them back up when Tailgate licks him. His words dissipate to thin air as he moans instead, long and hard.

“ _Tailgate_ .” Cyclonus’ back arches in an elegant curve. Tailgate _nuzzles_ the mesh of his valve and the over-sensitive nub receives pressure in the form of Tailgate’s nose. He exhales on it and Cyclonus _keens_.

He wonders if Tailgate has any prior experience. 

_Sure as hell feels like it. Maybe someone from the crew?_

Cyclonus doubts his inner cynic, this once. Tailgate is nothing if not enthusiastic and a fast learner when he puts his mind to it, and Cyclonus has given him plenty of examples to learn from. 

“Yes,” he moans. His glasses are knocked off his face when he throws his head back but he doesn't care enough to retrieve them. He can't actually _see_ Tailgate as his lover is obscured thanks to his skirts, and much to Cyclonus’ surprise, he realizes that makes it far hotter. 

He surrenders to Tailgate’s welcoming mouth and reclines back on the berth with his legs spread as wide as he could manage while still remaining comfortable.

+

Cyclonus loses count after his third overload. 

He's uncertain how much time has passed: this form doesn't come with a chronometer. If he has to guess, it'd be a cycle or so, and Tailgate is still eating him out. Pushing him to the edge, tipping him over it, and helping him back down. 

Again and again.

Cyclonus’ processor is foggy and his logic circuits have taken a vacation. He's sure he looks every part as messy and disheveled as he _feels_. His glasses gone, his lips parted, cheeks alight with a very obvious blush and his hair always so meticulously pinned back, completely undone. 

He can't remember when he moved one of his hands from Tailgate’s head to his mouth but he's faintly aware that he's using it to both muffle himself and wipe his eyes when tears threaten to flood his vision. 

“Ahhh….” another overload. Tailgate hums against his valve and guides him through. Then he pulls back, and Cyclonus is unable to prevent a whine from slipping past his lips.

“ _Tailgate,_ ” he pants when his lover emerges from underneath his skirts, coated in his lubricants. Primus, that sight alone could make him overload again.

“Wow, you look like a _mess_ ,” Tailgate grins crookedly. He pries Cyclonus’ hand away from his eyes and wipes those tears away himself. “So… that means it was good, right?”

“No–” Cyclonus writhes. His valve aches for one last overload. Still, when he catches the disappointed look on Tailgate’s face he corrects himself immediately. “ _I-I mean,_ yes, but I–”

Tailgate’s eyes light up. 

“Oh!” He proclaims. His enthusiasm is incredibly endearing, but Cyclonus’ focus is elsewhere at the moment. “Need more?”

“ _Please_ ,” he nods.

“Alright, I got you~” another one of those sayings? Cyclonus doesn't care to ask. Tailgate kneels between his legs again and the familiar pressure returns, but instead of the slow drag of his tongue and kisses of his lips, he plunges that tongue _deep_ inside Cyclonus' entrance. 

“ _Yes_!” He cries. Tailgate fucks him on his tongue and Cyclonus is helpless to do anything but moan praise and encouragement, his hips moving of their own volition.

He barely feels Tailgate’s fingers skidding across his thighs. No, he actually doesn't register them until one of those fingers thrusts in his sloppy valve alongside Tailgate’s tongue in a relentless assault to his overstimulated nodes, finally pushing him over the edge.

“ _Tailgate_!” Cyclonus’ overload has him screaming until his throat aches, and even then, Tailgate only lets up when his lover is limp on the berth.

Tailgate is next to him within seconds. In his holo-avatar he's large enough to cuddle Cyclonus to his chest, and that is exactly what he does. 

Cyclonus has only half a mind to be disgusted when he tastes his own lubricants on Tailgate’s lips as he’s kissed. There's teeth here and there, and he winces slightly, but this is Tailgate’s first _kiss_. With lips. 

Cyclonus smiles tiredly.

“Worth it?” Tailgate asks, threading his fingers through Cyclonus’ hair. The sensation is foreign, but not at all unpleasant. He hums in content.

Fine, indulge one of Tailgate's sayings. Cyclonus doesn't exactly have a better description for it anyway.

“Worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts on this! It is my first time writing this pairing. I have more, and other pairings (mainly just MTMTE-focused ones) coming up.


End file.
